


Scars to Your Beautiful

by brookwrites



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Dan Howell and Phil Lester Are Married, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mild Smut, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-12 03:29:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13538751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookwrites/pseuds/brookwrites
Summary: Nearly a year after Dan got off his antidepressants, everything started coming back to him, and he turned to the only thing he knew to try and cope: a razor blade. Phil, left completely in the dark, was left to find out the hard way.





	Scars to Your Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: References to Depression and Self-Harm

Phil’s warm, passionate kiss filled him with warmth as if he was stepping into a heated room on a snowy evening. Dan hadn’t felt that happy in what felt like years, although it had only been a few months. His hands in Phil’s hair, Phil’s mouth on his neck, the scene was a blur of heat and love until he found himself twirled onto their shared bed. Suddenly Phil was on top of him, his legs wrapped around the younger boy’s waist. Dan ignored the shooting pain through the fresh, unnoticed scars on his waist; they were unimportant. He was unimportant. All that mattered to him was Phil. 

Phil, the 31 year old man who the world viewed as innocent as a child. Phil, the amazing husband who had a completely different side to him that only Dan knew. Phil, the only reason he bothered to be alive. The only reason he bothered to try and be happy. 

And damnit, he should have told him that he was thinking about getting back on the antidepressants. He should have told him that he found a new, less obvious place to cut, and he’d been doing it for months. He should have told him he could feel a depressive episode coming. He should have let him help him, but instead, he just let him break down his barriers. Every fiber of his being told him not to let Phil get to him, not to let him see what he’d become. But a dinner meant to be his confession escalated to his passionate downfall. 

These were all thoughts in the back of Dan’s head as it hit the pillow behind him, Phil attacking him mercilessly. Dan let him take the lead; he usually did. But today it was less for that reason and more for the fact that Dan barely had the energy to do it himself. It had been so long since they’d had sex, and damn did he miss it, but his own body and mind was waging war against him, and his sex drive definitely didn’t have a chance at winning. 

Despite his internal battle, however, his one instinct that took over was the warm, happy feeling that came from Phil’s touch. He tried to push all other thoughts from his mind and focus just on the rough yet oh so soft, loving touch of his husband as he planted soft kisses down his neck. As he felt his jeans tighten, pure euphoria pushed his previous negative thoughts away, and although that was an exaggeration, it seemed to him after so long without true happiness to be the truth.

Dan buried his head in Phil’s neck, cradling Phil on his lap. He could feel a bulge pressing against his own as he pressed his lips to Phil’s neck. They’d done enough filming in the last couple of days to last a week or two; they could leave whatever marks they pleased on each other. His senses heightened as he felt a tug at the hem of his pants, and suddenly Phil had unbuttoned them. As Phil pulled down his jeans, everything rushed back to him. The negativity, the concerns, the confession... the scars. 

“Oh, Dan...” 

His emotion turned from overwhelming happiness to absolute despair at the snap of a finger. He flung himself against the pillow behind him, sighing and letting the tears he didn’t know he’d been holding in for so long flow. “I meant to tell you... tonight, actually. But everything was going so well and I was actually starting to feel a little bit happy for once and I just... I just couldn’t.”

“Dan, I-”

“Damnit, Phil, I was doing so well!” Dan cut him off. He didn’t mean to; it wasn’t like he was mad at Phil for anything. He’d just kept it bottled up from the entire world, from his husband, even, for so long that it finally just came barreling out. “It’s been nearly a year since I’ve gotten off my antidepressants. My mental health was better than it had been in years, and I had to go throw it all away.” 

“It’s not your fault.”

“That’s just what you tell me. Sure, maybe it isn’t technically my fault that it came back, but maybe if I had taken better care of myself it wouldn’t have. Maybe if I hadn’t given into it and bought a damn razor, we’d be having sex instead of me crying in our bed. Maybe if I had the fucking balls to tell you I wasn’t okay and get back on the meds, I would be getting better right now instead of worse. But I made all the wrong choices, Phil, and now I’m right back where I started.”

“Dan,” he said, taking the younger boy’s hands and pulling him upright, staring into his chocolate-brown eyes. “You are not back where you started. You are so much stronger now than you ever were then. And maybe you’ve been knocked down, but I assure you, you can get back up again.” Phil paused, taking a deep breath. “You know what we have to do, don’t you?” 

Dan gulped, nodding. Phil squeezed his hand before letting go and standing up, the bedsprings squeaking as he released his weight from the mattress and disappeared through the doorframe. He came back a moment later with a box that Dan knew contained his razor. Phil knew him well enough to know exactly where to find it. “I’m throwing this away, okay?” he said calmly, and Dan nodded. He left again and came back empty handed, as if the mere existence of the toxic box had been erased. Phil climbed into bed beside him, tugging on the waistband of his jeans. Dan knew he was taking in a full glimpse of his waist and upper thighs, lined up and down with countless cuts, many already turned to permanent scars. “Dan, how long?” 

“A few months. Phil, I’m so sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry. I’m proud of you for even wanting to tell me in the first place. Tomorrow we’ll go to the doctor and see where we can go from here. But for now, I just want to remind you,” he said, wrapping his arms around Dan’s stomach, carefully avoiding his now forever imperfect waist. “I love you so much, and no matter what, Dan, to me you’re beautiful.”


End file.
